


Stupid in love

by from within (aconite_fic)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 07:51:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aconite_fic/pseuds/from%20within
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mordred gets annoyed by Merlin going on and on about Arthur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stupid in love

“Does _Arthur_ have any trouble getting his armour on?” Mordred asked, trying to hide the bitterness in his tone and failing miserably. Merlin didn’t seem to notice, though. He just kept smiling, fixing whatever there was to fix on Mordred’s breastplates.

 

“Not really, no,” the servant chuckled. “He has more trouble getting the belt on his trousers on.” He then bit his lip. “You’re not going to tell him I said that, are you?”

 

Mordred felt himself flushing at the sight of Merlin’s hopeful smile.

 

“Of course not,” he mumbled. He felt a part in the back of his mind gloat at the fact that _fat, fat, he called Arthur fat!_ But a larger part of him registered that there wasn’t any mockery hiding behind Merlin’s remark. On the contrary, he sounded quite fond of his master’s well expressed belly. For a second Mordred considered letting himself get slack and gather some fat, because, if that makes him charming in Merlin’s book – is it really that big of a price to pay? In the next he was shaking his head, cursing himself for being so daft.

 

“No?” He heard Merlin’s confused question.

 

“Sorry, what?” He hadn’t even realized that Merlin had continued talking.

 

“I’m done,” Merlin said, patting the metal on Mordred’s chest for emphasis. “Are you ready?”

 

“Yes,” Mordred replied quickly, putting his gauntlets on. “Thank you,” he smiled at Merlin as he was being handed his sword and turned around quickly before his burning cheeks – a result of Merlin’s bright smile, no doubt – set his whole dignity aflame.

 

~~~

 

Mordred loved being a knight of Camelot. He really did, it was an honourable service, and his fellow knights were steadily becoming less of friends and more of brothers. They were strong, loyal, kind – they taught him well of everything he needed to know and everything he needed to become. The training had easily become one of the best parts of his days. They were beat only by the short activities of preparing for the training and getting out of his equipment right after. The reason was only one: Merlin.

 

As a young knight, Mordred hadn’t been assigned his own manservant. Merlin, though, had been kind enough to offer his help… Either that, or Arthur had been considerate enough to order him to do it, as Mordred was just getting started and had no idea how to handle each part of his battle equipment. Merlin was experienced enough, having served the king for years now, and he did quick work of preparing Mordred for each training session.

 

Mordred sincerely enjoyed his company and looked forward to their limited time together, wishing he could somehow extend it, but Merlin was always busy with his chores assigned to him by Arthur, and when he wasn’t doing that, he was always around Arthur; when he was helping Mordred he was always complaining about Arthur or just talking about Arthur and _Arthur and Arthur and Arthur_. Mordred was becoming steadily annoyed of hearing the king’s name in every context possible. Well… maybe not _every_ context, but that was more of a subtext. Merlin wasn’t being extremely vocal about his feelings towards his master, but seeing through him wasn’t exactly a hardship. Albeit being the one with magic, he was clearly the one _under a spell_ , although Arthur was oblivious to having cast it.

 

And that was what annoyed Mordred the most. Arthur clearly had no intentions of changing the nature of his relationship with Merlin, which meant that Merlin just had to give up, look for other options, and _oh, if he actually looked…_

Mordred was well aware that he wasn’t the only one in Camelot charmed by Merlin. He would be surprised if he was. But he would be damned if he would let someone else have Merlin if he ever took his eyes off that damned Pendragon.

 

Thoughts like these made it extremely awkward to communicate with the king himself. Mordred was constantly thorn between wanting to behave like a well-trained puppy and wanting to defy Arthur in every single way. He had the strange feeling that both these behaviors would win him points with Merlin and had no idea which one to act on.

 

For now, he behaved. He followed orders, learned all his lessons and earned praises. After each compliment he somehow managed to catch Merlin’s eye, who just sent him a little private smile and continued doing his work. It was enough to keep Mordred warm for the rest of the day.

 

~~~

 

“You were a bit distracted today,” Merlin commented as he removed the heavy chainmail from Mordred’s upper body.

 

“Yeah?” Mordred had a sip of water and gulped with difficulty as he followed the movement of Merlin’s slim fingers, his hands, body, his everything, really.

 

“Yeah,” Merlin nodded. “Arthur said so.”

 

“He did?” More unwell-hidden bitterness.

 

“Yeah,” he repeated. “Your reactions were a bit more sluggish than usual? Arthur said—”

 

There. He was finally doing it. He was cradling Merlin’s waist with his hands and he was moving his lips against Merlin’s stiff ones. As he got no reaction, he moved an inch away.

 

“Don’t you ever get tired of saying his name?” He hissed quietly and moved in for another kiss. Merlin made a small noise as he moved his lips carefully, as he wasn’t entirely sure of what he was doing. Mordred nipped on his lower lip lightly, encouraging him. Finally Merlin’s muscles slackened a bit and he let his hands rest on Mordred’s shoulders, his lips now cooperating in the kiss that seemed to be life-defining. As they pulled apart, Mordred took in the sight of a brightly blushing Merlin, biting his lip and fidgeting on his feet as if he were about to start springing any second now. Mordred was feeling all bubbly himself and he did the only thing that seemed reasonable in cases like these.

 

He ran away.

 

He ran away, making his way from the armoury through the castle halls, walking for hours or maybe just a minute until he reached his chambers, he couldn’t make it out if he wanted to. His lips were pulled in a goofy smile, the feeling on Merlin’s matching pair moving against them still there, lingering, making him want to scream and giggle and cry at the same time. He also felt like dancing and bashing his head against the wall, but he wisely set for sprawling himself across his bed and staring at the ceiling. He marveled at the fact that although he was a grown man, he still felt like a lovestruck girl (yes, Arthur had said that, but it was okay –Merlin had told Mordred about the ‘poetry’ accident, and it was cool, ‘cause Merlin shared stuff with Mordred like that), and he couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed, because he was somewhat happy.

 

After a while, as he came down from his high, he got more than a little embarrassed. He’d finally gathered just enough courage to do what he wanted to, but not nearly enough to keep him cool after he did it.

 

He didn’t sleep well that night, waiting for morning to come, along with training and Merlin.

 

When they met at the armoury, there were a few seconds of awkward silence, which Merlin broke with his usual chipper, with the only difference that he spoke of everything but Arthur.

 

Mordred felt himself getting disappointed. Merlin regretted kissing him. Clearly, he now didn’t mention Arthur to avoid it happening again. Mordred sighed and let himself be handled with his armour. He could handle rejection. At least he still had Merlin’s friendship, and that was more than he could ever ask for in exchange for his unwanted display of desire.

 

The next few days, though, he started noticing things. Small things.

 

Like Merlin’s smile, for example. He wasn’t exactly smiling now, more like smirking; either Mordred was looking far into it, or it was a subtle invitation. A challenge. Mordred just smirked in return.

 

Then there were the touches. Merlin was smoothing his tunic when it didn’t really need smoothing – and since when was Mordred’s tunic his concern, anyway? – and his hands lingered longer on various parts of his body. None of these parts were near enough where those hands were most desired on, but it was _something._

 

About a week after the kiss had happened, Mordred was absolutely sure he wasn’t imagining anything. Merlin’s eyes practically screamed for him to _do something_ , finish what he started. But Mordred couldn’t help but wonder, “What if I don’t?” Would Merlin snap and just jump him? Because Mordred certainly would enjoy that. So he just kept doing what he always did, enjoying Merlin violating his personal space and blushing and breathing quicker than he really ought to. An excited Merlin was a sight to behold.

 

But then, another thought came across him – what if Merlin got bored? What if he just gave up and when Mordred realized it would be too late for something to happen between them? This occurred to him in one of the not-so-good times to have epiphanies – while he was dueling with another knight in a training session. His attacks became almost desperate and he was dismissed earlier than usual, receiving odd looks and concerned questions. He waved them off and made his way towards the armoury, undressing himself urgently.

 

“Wait, wait,” he heard Merlin’s voice from behind him and turned around. “I’ll help you, you’re going to hurt yourself,” he chuckled. Mordred just stared at him in awe. Merlin noticed the sudden openness in the young night’s behavior and avoided looking in his eyes, removing all the garments successfully. When no metal was in his way, Mordred stepped closer and hugged Merlin tightly, noting slightly that he smelled of sweat and training. Merlin didn’t seem to mind, relaxing in his arms and breathing heavily. He moved his head from Mordred’s shoulder and finally met his gaze, smiling. He leaned in and licked Mordred’s lower lip tentatively, tasting saltiness. Mordred sighed lightly and captured his lips. The kiss was tender and even better than how Mordred remembered it.

 

“Arthur?” He asked simply when they pulled apart. Merlin just shook his head and smiled, burying his fingers in sweat-soaked hair and kissing him again.

 

~~~

 

For a while, that was all their relationships consisted of – as they were both too busy, they sated themselves with dizzying kisses and stolen glances, and they were both happy, high on the thrill, the spark of it.

 

One day, after training was done with, they had allowed themselves a few minutes more in the armoury. Merlin was trapped against the wall, giggling as Mordred pecked his cheeks and neck, whispering sweet nothings and making himself laugh as well. One of his hands moved from Merlin’s hip to the front of his trousers and Merlin snapped his eyes open.

 

“Mordred,” he exhaled, half-surprised and half-warningly.

 

Mordred just cupped him through the fabric and pushed lightly, delighted to hear Merlin’s breath catch.

 

“You want it,” he said huskily as his hand started moving slowly, teasingly. “It’s okay,” he purred as he moved to nibble on Merlin’s ear.

 

“Mordred,” Merlin almost whined and thrusted against Mordred’s hand. The knight smiled and rubbed harder, kissing and sucking on Merlin’s neck, tempted to leave a mark but not quite daring to. “I won’t last,” Merlin said breathlessly and Mordred just shushed him, his lips never quite leaving the tender flesh.

 

 _“Merlin!”_ A shout was heard from not far away.

 

Arthur.

 

“Shit,” Merlin hissed and scrambled to get himself away from Mordred, but he didn’t let him. He just rubbed his hand harder and faster, pushing an unbelieving and extremely flushed Merlin towards completion. He had to use his other hand to muffle Merlin’s moans as they increased their volume, stimulated by the adrenaline, the thrill of the danger. He came with a choked scream, sliding down the wall into a heavy-breathing pile of limbs, messy hair and rosy skin.

 

Half a minute later, Arthur walked into the armoury.

 

“Ah, there— is everything alright, Merlin?”

 

“Yes, sire.” He said, hiding his face into his hands.

 

Arthur looked questioningly at Mordred.

 

“He’s feeling a bit unwell, sire. He hasn’t eaten properly today, so he’s a bit weak and dizzy.”

 

“Why haven’t you eaten?” Arthur demanded.

 

“Busy,” was Merlin’s short reply.

 

“Are you blaming me?” Arthur laughed.

 

“Maybe.” Merlin decided it was safe to look up. He wiped the sweat on his face with a hand and tried to calm his breathing.

 

“Return to Gaius, see if he can help you or just sit down and eat, and then come clean my chambers.”

 

“Yes, sire.”

 

Arthur nodded at Mordred.

 

“My lord,” Mordred bowed slightly and watched Arthur leave.

 

“I can’t believe you just did that,” Merlin exclaimed after they couldn’t hear Arthur’s steps anymore. Mordred laughed and kneeled next to him, running his fingers through Merlin’s hair and cupping his cheek.

 

“You loved it,” he demanded, his thumb caressing a cheekbone.

 

With a frustrated groan Merlin leaned forward and kissed him hard as a punishment.

 

Mordred didn’t mind.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I really couldn't think of a dumber title for a fic, but I don't care, I JUST LOVE THEIR STUPID FACES AND THEIR STUPID FACES LOVE EACH OTHER. No, that wasn't meant to make any sense. Bye, going to eat my feelings now.


End file.
